


Domestic Bliss

by missbecky



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Fluff, M/M, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-23
Updated: 2015-03-23
Packaged: 2018-03-19 04:20:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3596118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missbecky/pseuds/missbecky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eggsy thinks that he could get used to this life. He really could.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Domestic Bliss

"Domestic bliss" is one of those phrases that Eggsy knows but doesn't know. Like, he knows what it's probably supposed to be, it's not that hard to figure out, but he doesn't know what it really looks like. He guesses maybe his parents had it before his dad was killed, but if so, he was too little at the time to remember it. And once Dean came around, there wasn't much bliss of any kind in his house, let alone domestic.

But he thinks he's maybe starting to figure it out.

It's sorting laundry and teasing each other over who's got the better-looking suit, taking out the rubbish at night, going for long walks together with JB. 

It's Harry standing at the sink, the knot in his tie ever-so-slightly undone, gloves on, doing the dishes from the night's dinner. Hands moving in careful precision, wash, rinse, dry. Glancing up occasionally at Eggsy to give him a fond smile.

It's lazy Sunday mornings, having a lie-in until ten, waking up to the heavenly smells of breakfast, JB barking at him to get his arse out of bed. His nose buried in the pillow that smells of Harry's shampoo, arms and legs sprawled across the bed they share.

It's popping into the shop to pick up some of that tea Harry likes, or a DVD on sale that they can watch later, or batteries for the remote. Stupid things he always used to scoff at, or else just flat out steal because why bother paying for something if you could just take it.

His mum says she's glad he found someone who makes him so happy, even as she refuses to take Daisy and leave Dean. Roxy grins at him sometimes, the grin of two conspirators, like she's thrilled they share what is very obviously not a secret. Merlin doesn't do anything different, but sometimes he lets way-too-casual nuggets drop in conversation, like the time he just happens to mention that Harry has a weakness for Jaffa Cakes.

(Eggsy very definitely does not pop into the shop that same afternoon to buy a packet of said Jaffa Cakes.)

****

There are still days when he thinks he's made an enormous mistake. Days when the morning light falls unflattering on Harry's face, highlighting his age. Days when they row over nothing and everything and go to bed angry with each other. Days when he takes off the glasses, blood-stained and bent, and he thinks, _this is it, this is the last time._

But it never is.

****

There are new recruits to be trained, new bombs to be defused, new madmen to be taken down. Eggsy spends a week in Berlin at their tech branch, being awed and thrilled by all the new stuff they show him. He goes to lunch with Amelia twice, and blushes bright red when she says that their new Arthur is so taken with him that even out here, far from HQ, everyone knows it.

He goes on missions to America (twice), Ireland, Nairobi, and Egypt. He gets stabbed in the leg, nearly blown up, and some crazy guy tries to shoot him in the balls.

Back at home, Harry shoves him up against the wall and kisses him until he's melting. One strong hand pins both his wrists to the wall above his head. All he can do is hook one leg about Harry's knees, trying to pull them closer together. He arches up and keens a little as Harry's tongue leaves a burning trail down his throat.

"God, Harry, don't stop," he pants.

"As if you could make me," Harry says, and bites his collarbone, and Eggsy nearly comes in his trousers.

****

Another Sunday morning, and they lie together in bed while rain streams down the window and JB paces outside the door, toenails clicking on the wood floor. Harry's head is on his bare chest, his hair falling over his forehead and tickling Eggsy a little. 

Any moment now Harry will stir and say that they should get up and make breakfast. Eggsy wishes he wouldn't. He wishes they could lie like this forever, just freeze time and stay this way.

He twines his fingers through Harry's hair, pulling lightly. He knows this is something Harry enjoys, even though Harry has never said it out loud. He likes that, that he knows things about Harry nobody else does, not even Merlin with all the long years of their friendship.

With his other hand he reaches up and touches an old scar high up on Harry's arm. "Where'd you get this, then?"

"Mmm?" Harry stirs, nuzzling his nose into Eggsy's chest. "Mission in Malta. Went badly for me, worse for the other fellow."

Eggsy strokes his thumb over the scar. He wonders how badly hurt Harry was on that mission, if there were any other Kingsman agents around, or if he saved himself. His heart beats a little faster at the thought. He's glad Harry is in charge these days, sitting behind a desk all day instead of being out there in the field where people can shoot at him.

Once was more than enough for Eggsy's taste.

He kisses the top of Harry's head. "I'm glad," he says.

****

Roxy ends up in hospital after a mission in Belgium goes tits up. She was supposed to go with Eggsy on his next mission, to gather intel on a group in Moscow that's rumoured to be putting together dirty bombs.

Instead, Harry joins him.

Being in the field with Harry is a revelation. All that stuff he saw in the Black Prince and in the church is nothing. On a mission, Harry is all razor-sharp focus and keen instinct. And he kicks ass like nobody's business. At the end of it all, standing there in the abandoned hotel where they ran their quarry down, Harry's body count is nearly double that of Eggsy's.

"You're fucking incredible, you know that," he murmurs as Harry pushes him up against the filthy check-in desk.

"So I've been told," Harry says. He leans in, and their glasses click together, and back at HQ Merlin's probably turning away in annoyance, and Eggsy just doesn't give a shit. "You're not so bad yourself. But you tend to leave your left flank open a little too often."

"Yeah?" Eggsy challenges. "I don't recall that being a problem."

"Then let me show you," Harry says, and shoves a knee into his left thigh, spreading his legs.

Eggsy grins up at him. "Like that, yeah?"

Harry nods. "Like that."

He's horny as hell, turned on by the adrenaline of the fight and the things Harry is doing to him right now. It's disgusting in here, though, full of cobwebs and rat droppings, not to mention a lot of dead people. 

"Maybe we better get back to the safe house," he breathes, clutching at Harry's rear. "I guess I'm in need of a lesson."

"I'd say so," Harry says. He lets go of Eggsy and backs away, still ridiculously proper despite the blood on his cuffs and the grime on his face. "Shall we?"

Eggsy reaches up to straighten his tie. He winks. "We shall."

****

First thing Monday morning Eggsy gets measured for a new suit. This one's not for Kingsman business, though, so he has to pay for it out of his own pocket. He can afford it, so he doesn't mind. He learns a little more about the tailoring business while he's at it; after all, the shop is good for a cover only as long as its employees actually know what they're doing. That night he practices taking Harry's measurements, and they end up with the tape measure wrapped about both of them as they fall off the couch and land on the floor.

He has a bit of lie-in on Tuesday and when he finally drags himself out of bed, he spends all day at HQ, researching his latest target. A mission is 75% research, a fact he never really appreciated until he became a field agent. There was a time when he would have chafed at spending time cooped up inside, hunched over a computer, but now he doesn't mind so much. He takes the private tube to the shop and joins Harry for lunch, and they talk for hours about stupid things that Eggsy doesn't even remember afterward but which make him foolishly happy.

On Wednesday morning Eggsy burns the bacon, and Harry accompanies him to HQ. Eggsy blows him on the tube, and spends the rest of the day sporting a semi in his trousers and grinning whenever he sees Harry. They make salmon for dinner that night, and then Harry fucks him into the mattress until he sees stars. He falls asleep with one arm flung possessively across Harry's stomach, and when he wakes up just after midnight, needing to piss, their positions have been reversed, so that he has to ease out from under Harry's arm to get out of bed.

Thursday he's off to Lisbon for a quick job, the research all finished. Merlin guides him impeccably, everything goes according to plan, and he's back by dinner. He gives Harry his official report while sipping a martini, and runs his foot up Harry's leg beneath the dining room table. Back at home they don't even make it upstairs before Harry's on his knees, undoing Eggsy's flies and swallowing him whole, and Eggsy slams his head back against the wall so hard that some of the framed pictures fall to the floor.

It's raining Friday morning when he goes to pick up his new tuxedo. It fits beautifully, as he knew it would. At HQ he runs through some shooting drills, and considers trying archery next. It seems like a useful skill to have, plus it just looks really cool. He leaves early, then spends the next hour cursing the traffic in London, and finally arrives back home.

Harry is already there, impeccably dressed and fucking gorgeous, not one hair out of place. "I was starting to think you had changed your mind."

"Never," Eggsy assures him.

"Then you better go get dressed," Harry says.

"I will," Eggsy says. "I just have to do this one thing first." He walks right up to Harry and kisses him soundly, all lips and wet tongue and hot breath. He keeps moving, forcing Harry to walk backward to keep up with him, and for a moment he's ready to say fuck the opera, he just wants to know how far Harry will let him go.

Not far, is the answer. Harry's hand closes about his wrist before he can muss up Harry's hair. "We have fifteen minutes before the car comes around. I suggest you use the time wisely."

Eggsy winks at him, and runs lightly up the stairs.

Later, as the lights go down and the music starts, he looks over at Harry and he thinks that he could get used to this life. He really could.

****

The Saturday after the opera, he wakes up to the smell of bacon. He rolls over, inhaling deeply, and sees Harry standing there with a tray loaded with a full English breakfast and a huge, steaming mug of tea.

"Oh, God," Eggsy says. "You read my mind."

Harry smiles. He's wearing a blue jumper over a white shirt. It's nothing special, but to Eggsy he's never been more beautiful. "I should hope not."

Eggsy smiles and sits up and Harry brings the tray over and sets it across his lap. As Eggsy takes his first sip of tea, Harry sits beside him and opens up his laptop.

"Really?" Eggsy asks. "You're working on a Saturday morning?"

Harry appears to consider this. "Do you know, I think you might be right. Fuck work today." He closes the laptop and tosses it to the foot of the bed.

Eggsy nods in satisfaction; he'll never stop loving these moments when Harry surprises him with less-than-gentlemanly behaviour. "That's more like it."

Harry steals a slice of bacon from the plate, too quick even for Eggsy. He eats it, and then licks the grease off his fingers in a display that's positively crass for him. "And this?"

Eggsy laughs. This, he thinks, is exactly right. This is domestic bliss.

This is perfect.


End file.
